


i'm in love and it's a crying shame

by Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Unrequited Love, but it's not too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam/pseuds/Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam
Summary: Hanahaki is not as rare in the league as they would have the world believe, and every year there's at least one guy who plays until his lungs give out under the force of flowers.Allegedly the Oilers had a case last year although no one knew who it had been, and Winnipeg had dealt with at least two since they moved from Atlanta. In the off season it's always the same old story; undisclosed torso surgery, unexpected but nothing too serious, they'll be fine for the autumn.So Sean knows what this means for himself, knows who it is, doesn’t even really have to think that hard about it. He knows he’s in love with Danton, has known it for months now even if it wasn’t something he actively acknowledged.And now it was going to kill him





	i'm in love and it's a crying shame

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I wasn’t going to write this, and then a scene got stuck in my head and suddenly there’s a fic. Well not suddenly, I've got exams currently and this took waaay too long to write.
> 
> I've got a tumblr, I did create a writing one, but I'm really lazy it turns out and not one day later can't be bothered to keep it up, so just hit me up on my main: keep-calm-and-bergeron
> 
> As far as the timeline for this goes, I don’t have a clue. Sometime this season, towards the end of it, maybe like end of February, Coyle’s with the team, but any games mentioned here didn’t actually happen. And I apologise for the over use of the word throat, i just think it sounds better than using maw, gullet and larynx a bajillion times instead
> 
> Finally, I only discovered Carlo rooms with Heinen after I started writing this, but uh, creative license and all that
> 
> Hanahaki Disease: 'a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.'

 

 

 

The first time it happens is after a win. It’d been a close game the whole 60 minutes, and Danton had scored the game winning goal when it'd gone into overtime. The team, and by this Sean means most of the younger guys, had gone out to celebrate. They’re not quite drunk, but Sean's three beers down and he’s pretty sure Charlie just went up to the bar to get some shots.

Noel is on his left chatting to Gryz, and pressed up to Sean's right side is Danton. He's drunker than the rest of them, although if that's because he's had more to drink or he's just a lightweight Sean doesn't know.

"So," he says swinging his arm around the blond and pulling him closer, "What a fucking goal."

"Was all Marchy and Bergy, I was all right place, right time you know." Danton demures, and Sean rolls his eyes.

"It was a hell of a snipe, that's all you and you know it." Dany grins up at him and raises his glass of beer up at Sean.

"If you say so. Cheers!" Sean clinks his own glass against Dany's and returns the grin. Danton then twists to talk to Jake, but remains pressed firmly into Sean's side, he's warm, and everywhere they touch tingles with static.

He's about to ask Wags about a play he had made late in the game, a cross seam pass that had led to their second goal, when he feels a scratching in his throat.  
He swallows down a mouthful of beer, but the itch doesn’t go away. It sticks in the back of his throat and crawls upwards. When he coughs into his hand, there’s a few tiny drops of blood there in his palm. He pushes his chair back abruptly and sways to his feet, throat burning. Danton puts a hand on his arm concerned.

“Sean? You okay?”

“Yeah,” He rasps, “Got something in my throat, need to go to the bathroom.”

He barely leaves time for Danton to answer before he fast-foots it out of there.

The men's room is warm and dimly lit, but it barely registers as he bends double over the sink, clutching at its sides. He gasps for air, desperate. Eventually - finally - something slithers up and over his tongue, slick and coppery with blood. Sean knows, even before he spits the damned thing out, what it is.  
The petal is round, as red as the blood that soaks it.

Hanahaki is not as rare in the league as they would have the world believe, and several players every year play with it until their lungs almost give out. Allegedly the Oilers had a case last year although no one knew who it had been, and Winnipeg had dealt with at least two since they moved from Atlanta. In the off season it's always the same old story; undisclosed torso surgery, unexpected but nothing too serious, they'll be fine for the autumn.

And he knows what this means for himself, knows _who_ it is, doesn’t even really have to think that hard about it. He knows he’s in love with Danton, has known it for months now even if it wasn’t something he actively acknowledged. And so, of course, the universe decides to to throw this in his face, as if being in love with a teammate wasn’t bad enough. Now he has to go and die over it.

And he is going to die, because there’s no way Danton's in love with him and there’s also no way he’s going to get that surgery, can’t imagine a world in which that’s the better option here. A world where he can look at Dany without feeling anything much at all, without the warmth and staticky feeling.

No. The surgery’s not an option at all.

He turns on the tap and watches the red run down the drain. The petal remains, crimson against the sink.

When he returns to the table, nobody comments on his sudden departure, although Danton mouths; you alright, at him. Sean smiles weakly, and nods.  
He’s fine.

 

 

 

It doesn’t happen again for a few days after that; and then he spends an afternoon after practice with Danton.

It’s not unusual per say, they’ve done this before, but there’s an apprehension in his belly that taints the whole thing. To his surprise, he’s fine, there’s no suffocating feeling, no tickle in his lungs, no bright red petals, just good company and the sun.

There an underlying worry of, if it’s not Danton then who the hell is it? But it’s an easy thought to push to the back of his mind while they talk hockey and wander around Boston. So easy in fact, that he forgets all about the flowers, about Hanahaki Disease and what it all means for him, until he arrives at home.

He’s digging around in the empty fridge, cursing himself for not doing groceries, when his phone pings from the counter. He leans over to grab it, only half paying attention to the screen as he unlocks it and gulps down some possibly expired milk.

 

 **Danton** [15:45]  
_i forgot to say earlier that Wags said to tell u that ur wrister needs some wrk_

 **Danton** [15:46]  
_and I quote: u’d think his left hand wld be strong enough what with all the jacking off he does’_

 **Danton** [15:48]  
_So yeah, there’s that_

 

Sean snorts, because of course Dany would actually tell him this, and is about to write back something along the lines of ‘I’m going to fucking decapitate Wags but thanks for passing on his message’ when he feels the tickle in his throat.

He swallows what remains of the milk in a desperate attempt to soothe the itch, but it does nothing. He staggers over to the kitchen sink, and splutters into it, desperate for breath. There’s something stuck in his throat, and no matter how hard or how much he hacks and coughs it doesn’t come up. His vision blurs at the edges like it did in the pub bathroom, and finally, finally he manages to clear his throat, spitting the petals into the sink. The blood that clings to them is almost invisible against their red color.

He’d looked up the flower after the first time, trying to match the petals to pictures on google. He’s fairly sure it’s anemone, supposedly the flower of protection against evil and forsaken love. Oh the irony.

He leans against the sink and sucks in deep breaths, swallowing down the metallic tang of blood and bile. God he’s so fucking screwed.

He doesn’t reply to the text.

 

 

 

Noel's the first one to find out about the whole thing. It’s a couple of months or so after the bathroom incident and he’s surprised it’s taken this long to be honest. It’d been easy to hide at first, petals only coming up every few days for weeks, and it’s simple enough to blame on a bad cough or throat infection. But then they’d become more frequent, every other day, and then every day without fail and now several times a day he had to run out the room to go cough his lungs up for a few damn petals.

He’d managed to last through practice without an attack, it helps that his proximity to Danton is minimal on the ice, and skating has always cleared his head anyway. But afterwards, in the dressing room laughing and joking with the boys, Dany just an arms reach away, he’d felt the first itch at the back of his throat. Excuses were easy enough to come up with, and he’d rushed from the room with no more than a ‘Someone’s in a hurry’ from Brad as he left. He should have known better though, than to think anyone on the team would give him just a few minutes peace.

The door swings open when he’s mid cough, and there’s nothing he can do but wait for the feeling to subside somewhat. It takes what feels like forever, but eventually the petals are in the sink, and the tears in his eyes are from shame, and not pain.

He looks over at the door to see Noel standing there, already changed and ready to go, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Shit.” He hisses in a panic, because if the trainers find out they’ll put him on IR for sure. You don’t play when you have Hanahaki, you get the surgery and try to put the whole fiasco behind you, “Noelie, please…”

“It’s fine,” Calm as ever, Noel comes closer placing a hand comfortingly on Sean's shoulder, “I won’t tell anyone man, I get it.”

Eyes wide, Sean gapes at him, “What?”

“I get it,” A grim smile spreads across the other mans face, “I had it last season, got the surgery in the summer.”

Sean feels like he’s going into shock. He hadn’t considered the possibility that someone else on the team had gone through this and he’d not known, especially not one of his lineys.

“Shit.” He breathes out unsteadily, “I had no idea.”

“That was kind of the point, no one was supposed to know” Noel reaches out and plucks a crimson petal from the white tiled sink, “Except Bruce and the front office.”

“Who was it?” He keeps his eyes on the other petals, red stains against the basin. He wonders how he didn’t realise, how he could be so oblivious.

“Have you been to a doctor?” Sean notes the non sequitur but decides not to press it, “This many petals means you’re pretty far along.”

“No!” At this he turns to grip tightly onto Noels wrist, whose eyebrows rise in alarm, “And I’m not going to, not till the seasons over.”

“Playing with Hanahaki isn’t good for-”

“For my health, I know I know.” He’s begging now, “But I can’t miss the rest of season, please.”

Noel sighs and drops the petal back into the sink, he scans over Sean's face intently before nodding, “No doctors then, not unless it gets much worse. But if it starts getting really bad…”

“You’ll drag me kicking and screaming I know.” The shorter man smiles weakly at him, patting his shoulder and taking a step back. There’s no pity in his voice when he speaks, but Sean feels like maybe there should be, “I’m sorry.”

“It's fine." He tells him, but it isn't, not really.

 

 

 

Here’s the thing: Sean doesn’t know exactly when he fell in love with Danton, can’t quite pinpoint the moment.

He thinks maybe it might have been after a goal, they’d crashed into each other and all he could focus on was the smile on Dany’s face. Or perhaps it was at one of the team breakfasts, and Danton would laugh at all of Sean’s lame stupid jokes - even when Noel or Wags would roll their eyes. There are a thousand moments, both inconsequential and momentous, that could be the moment, he just doesn’t know which one.

Not that it matters very much, who cares why he fell, it only counts that he did. So hard and fast that now he’s going to die over it, and Sean's never been the dramatic type so he’s not entirely sure why he of all people got this end of the stick.

They get breakfast without the rest of the team, and Sean can tell that Danton can tell there’s something wrong. He’s trying to be subtle, but he’s a hockey player and alas, subtle is not really their forte. There’s an odd look on his face, somewhere between confusion and concern, although he doesn’t say anything, for which Sean is thankful. Instead they talk about mundane things, hockey and family, the upcoming road trip and it would almost be like there were no flowers at all if not for the slight irritation down his throat.

 

 

 

They win against Chicago on the road, it’s a clean victory, no overtime and a decisive 5-2 score. It’s a good game - a great game - and it doesn’t hurt that Sean had scored the game winning goal, a greasy rebound from Wags where he’d been in just the right place at the right time.

They don’t go out to celebrate, they’re back on a plane tomorrow heading to St Louis for the next game, and no one wants to be hungover for that. Usually the plan would be to head up to their rooms, pretend to turn in early and spend most of the evening discussing the game with your roommate. At least, that’s what he and Danton generally tend to do.

“You coming back to the room?” Danton asks him, smile on his face, and Sean can just feel the shift in his lungs and the pressure build in his chest. Fuck.

“Uh sure,” He mumbles in a panic, “I’ve just got to go talk to Noel and Wags real quick, linemate stuff you know.”

He turns tail, and doesn’t run per say, but if he goes a little faster than usual than that’s no ones business but his own. No petals or flowers show themselves by the time he makes it up to Noel and Wag’s room, and the choking sensation is almost gone when he knocks.

It’s Chris who answers, fully dressed and on his way out. He looks surprised to see Sean, but doesn’t comment beyond a greeting as he moves out the way to let him through. The door shuts quietly behind him.

“He’s going to Charlies.” Noel yells from the restroom.

“McAvoy? Why?”

“No, Coyle.” Sean hums and collapses on one of the beds, “Any reason you’re here?”

“Can’t I just want to talk to you and Wags?” Noel snorts at that, but doesn’t press any further.

“Well you’re welcome to one of the beds, I doubt Chris will be returning at any point.”

“Cheers.” And so Sean appropriates Noel's room that evening, too afraid that if he goes back to the room he’s sharing with Dany he won’t be able to stop the deluge of flowers that would spill from him. Even just imagining his stupid face makes his lungs ache. So he tries not to think about it, staring up at the hotel ceiling eyes half shut. He can hear Noel moving around in the bathroom, and he dozes to the calming sounds for a while, tired from the game, exhausted from the ache in his chest. He’s awoken some time later by a voice.

“How far along is it?” Sean lifts his head a fraction from the duvet to look at the other man peering at him from the end of the bed, then lets it fall with a soft thump.

“I’ve got no idea.”

“Any full flowers yet? That’s usually the sign it’s nearing full course.”

“No, just petals.” Clumps of petals more specifically, three or four at a time, always bright crimson and crushed against the sink.

“Have you…” Here the other man hesitates, before sinking down on the end of the bed, “Have you thought about surgery?”

And here’s the thing: Sean has thought about the surgery. A lot.

When he’s not thinking about Hockey and the next game he’s thinking about the damn disease and the procedure to get rid of it. Sometimes, usually at night well past when he should be asleep, he gets so close to just biting the bullet, telling the doctors and missing the rest of season. Everyone would know why of course, there’s only one reason players get surgery mid season without explanation, and it’s Hanahaki, no matter how rare the occurrence. People would know, and once people knew they would start to guess, not that they’d ever guess correctly, but still. Those nights, the worst ones, he’ll go to sleep promising he’ll do it tomorrow, consequences be damned.

He never does.

He can’t imagine not loving Dany, not seeing his face and awkward smile and feeling his heart clench automatically in response. Or the instinctual laugh that happens whenever he tells a joke, good or, more likely, bad. When the petals had first appeared he had told himself he would rather die than get the surgery. He hates how that’s still the case, months and months down the line. So he doesn’t talk to the doctors, doesn’t tell the front office, just gets on and ignores it as best as he can.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“And?” Sean doesn’t reply. It’s an answer enough, “You could just talk to him you know, it wouldn’t kill you that’s not how Hanahaki’s works.”

The suggestion startles Sean so much he almost rolls off the bed as he struggles to get upright to stare at his linemate, “Him?”

“Well yeah,” Noel frowns at him, “It is Danton right?”

He gapes like a fish for a couple of seconds, mind racing on how exactly he managed to figure it out.

“How did you know?”

“I wouldn’t say you were exactly subtle. I mean, why else would you be here and not in the room with Dany if it wasn’t something to do with him.”

“I’m so fucked.” Sean groans and throws himself back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arms, Noel laughs, but doesn’t disagree.

 

 

 

He starts coughing halfway through practice a few weeks later, and it catches him so off guard he goes crashing into the boards. He hasn’t even been playing with Danton, they weren’t even on the same side of the rink. And yet, his lungs are trying to climb through his throat, and he can feel the petals as they squirm up his esophagus.

Someone slides to their knees besides him, and in the few seconds it take him to place the voice, he almost face plants the ice in panic. It’s just Noel though, who swears under his breath as Sean coughs again and one perfectly formed red flower falls against the ice. They both stare at it in horror, frozen.

“Sean?” That's Danton, a few metres behind them from the sounds of it, Noel, luckily, has the sense to cover the flower up with his glove.

“Kuraly?” And that’s Bruce, who must have heard him fall, or maybe it was the great hacking coughs being forced out of him. He sounds concerned from where he hovers behind Noel, just out of sight, “What’s going on?”

He’s still too busy coughing up his guts to answer, but he thinks Noel says something to assure coach.

“Do I need to call the doctor?” And that’s not something Sean’s going to let happen, not when they’re so close, but yet still so far from the end of the season.

“I’m fine,” He croaks, squashing down any more coughs, looking blearily up at Bruce, “I’ve just come down with a bug or something.

It’s a lame excuse, and from the skeptic crook of Bruce's eyebrow, he thinks so too.

“I told him he shouldn’t come to practice,” Noel interjects, “Pretty sure he was up vomiting all night too.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look terrible.” Danton chips in from next to Bruce, and Sean shoots him a betrayed, and thoroughly miserable look. All gets in return in a worried frown, “Like seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this pale.”

“You should go home Kuraly,” Bruce suggests, “Get some rest and if you’re not feeling better by game day we’ll have you checked out.”

“I can take you” Danton offers, to which Noel swiftly shakes his head,

“It’s fine I’ll do it, you should stay and practice, you’re more important anyway” Danton looks a little upset, but Sean doesn’t read too much into it, if the guy was telling the truth he probably looks half dead, and that’s enough to dismay anyone.

He gets a better look at Danton's kicked puppy expression when Noel single handedly hauls him up to his feet - Sean always forgets just how strong the guy is. It’s kind of devastating, and even though he’s the sick one, he want to take Danton home, wrap him in blankets and ply him with warmed hot chocolate and rum. As it is, he’s not in any state to do any of that, but he manages to grind out a few words to Noel as he is hauled off the rink.

“The hell did you do that for? Guy looks like someone ran over his dog”

“Because if you went home with him you’d have coughed up enough flowers to open a florist.” And really there’s no arguing with that.

He has a moment of realization as they head towards the dressing rooms, and almost wrenches himself out of Noels grip as he throws himself back towards the rink, “Jesus Sean!”

“The flower.” He gasps, “We left it on the ice, they’re all going to know.”

“Calm down-”

“They’re going to make me get the surgery, shit. I’m such an idiot-”

“I said calm down, I picked the damn thing up chill out,” He held out his gloved hand, and there lay the flower, crumpled and bruised, but very much not on the ice. Sean felt all the panic leave his body in one go, and he slumped back against Noel.

“Thank fuck.”

"Come on man, let's get you out of here." The attack has calmed down enough that he’s able to get changed without help, but his head is still swimming too much for him to notice the direction that they leave the rink until it’s too late.

“Woah,” He says, struggling upright from where’s he’s been slumped against the car window, “This isn’t the way to my house.”

“We’re not going to your house, we’re going to the doctor.”

“Fuck no,” Sean said emphatically, “You said you wouldn’t make me go to the doctor until-”

“Until the end of the season I know, but that was before you spat up a full flower during practice!”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and you know it. We’re going to the doctor before you end up killing yourself.”

And Sean knows he’s right, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. He slouches in the seat and sulks whilst Noel navigates the midday Boston traffic. Eventually he gets bored with sulking and starts rifling through the glove box in hopes of finding an energy bar or something else to eat. He uncovers a map of Boston, several pairs of sunglasses, a Patriots hat and then, bingo, squashed beneath the rest of the junk, a snickers. It’s not quite on the meal plan, but Sean’s out of fucks to give. He snatches up the chocolate bar, but a ripped piece of paper underneath catches his eye. It’s a printout of a google search for Carnation. And hell, that must have been-

“You finished looking through my shit?” Noel interrupts his thoughts, and Sean sheepishly closes the glove box, snickers in hand.

“Yeah,” He unwraps the chocolate and takes a bite, after deliberating with himself as he chews, he bites the bullet and asks, “Did anyone know?”

“Huh?” Noel’s eyes flickered away from the road to look at him.

“About your…” He waved the snickers at his chest, losing the words as he spoke

“Oh,” The other man turned his focus back to the front, “Gryz knew, he walked in on me after a game once.”

“Huh,” Sean considered this new information, “Did he know who it was?”

“No.” It was Noel’s turn to pause, “And even if he did, he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you begged so don’t even think about it.”

Sean takes a minute to run through some possible options, but doesn’t come up with anything substantial. “Was it me?”

Noel chokes on air and splutters as he shakes his head, “Not a chance, have you seen yourself?”

“Yeah, I look fucking great, you just have bad taste.”

"You're a moron," Noel rolls his eyes, "Shut the hell up we're almost there."

 

 

 

The doctor turns out to be a Hanahaki specialist, the one the front office had sent Noel to last season, with an open door policy. He introduces himself as Dr Cameron and all he does is check Sean's pulse and breathing with a mumbled curse before he sends him for an x-ray.

Afterwards he’s left alone in one of the clinic rooms while the X-ray processes and Noel goes to get a coffee from across the street, so he pulls his phone out from his phone pocket. There’s a couple of texts there, one from Wags and a few from the other guys, but one catches his eye.

 

 **Danton** [12:34]  
_u doing alright? u looked like shit at practice_

 **Sean** [13:23]  
Yeah I’m feeling a lot better, sorry about that

 **Danton** [13:25]  
_don’t apologise, u can’t help being sick_

 

He smiles despite himself and sends a string of smiley emojis before stuffing the phone back into his coat when he hears footsteps outside the door. Dr Cameron sweeps into the room, a stern look on his face and the x rays in his hand, pinning them up against a light board before turning to him.

“How long have you had Hanahaki?”

“A few months now I guess.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“Yeah, I do.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

“And is there any chance-?”

“No,” Sean shakes his head vehemently, “No there’s no way.”

The Doctor raises an eyebrow but shrugs and glances down at his notes, “If I had a nickel for everytime someone said that to me.”

“Let me guess, you'd be rich?”

“Something like that.” He turns to the X rays and raps his knuckles against them, “It’s pretty obvious that you’re several months in. The stems are already well ingrained, and you can see the buds starting to bloom here and there. Soon enough you’ll start coughing up flowers, and after that you have two months, maybe three.”

Sean felt his stomach turn, “Okay, what options do I have?”

Dr Cameron opened his desk and pulled out two pamphlets, “If they don’t love you back then the best choice is the surgery,”

Sean nodded looking down into his lap, he figuring it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to mention that he’d already decided not to get the surgery.

“I know it seems improbable, but the surgery is truly your best option. It’s completely safe, and, although it’s not perfect, has a very high success rate.”

“Right...”

“You don’t want it,” The Doctor tells him, and Sean’s head jerks up to meet the man's eyes, they’re sad but not particularly shocked, “No one does at first, and I understand that, I do. But Mr Kuraly, I assure you, Hanahaki is not the way you want to go out, it’s painful, it’s long and it’s devastating. Losing an impossible love is better than losing your life.”

He pushes the pamphlets into Sean's hand, “You’re not in immediate danger, but within the next few months you’ll need to seriously think about your future.”

“And the surgery...will it-”He hesitates, but the Doctor already knows what he’s trying to ask.

“It’s not one hundred percent successful, but except in very rare cases, the ‘romantic’ feeling goes away completely.”

“And friendship?”

“That’s more complicated,” Dr Cameron sits on his desk chair and steeples his fingers together, “The surgery isn’t always exact, sometimes any and all feeling is gone, sometimes it’s only the love that is removed.”

"So I might end up feeling nothing at all?"

"Only in regards to your person, and relationships, friendships can be rebuilt if necessary. It's a risk you have to take unfortunately. All I ask is you really think about this, it's not a choice to be taken lightly."

Sean nods and tightens his grip on the pamphlets as he shakes the Dr Cameron's hand and thanks him.

The doctor's shaking his head in exasperation as Sean leaves the room

 

 

 

It all falls apart just days later.

They’re in the middle of a three day break between games, and Chris had suggested that some of them go out to celebrate the day off. The younger guys had begged off in preference of going to Brandon's to drink and play video games. The bar they’re at is loud and crowded, so they’re jammed around a tiny table near the back. Sean’s not drunk, he’d driven himself here and didn’t want to walk back to his apartment, but when he feels Danton’s arm brush up against his, he wishes he was.

When the flowers stir in his lungs it feels almost normal, like a routine.

He’s about to excuse himself to go cough his guts up in the restroom when a spasm shakes his body and all the breath leaves his lungs. His chair screeches as he hauls himself to his feet, but it’s already too late.

He can feel the flowers squeeze up his throat, and every cough hurts. He’s almost relieved when eventually they fall from his mouth onto the table, splattered with blood and saliva. He rests his forearms against the edge of the table and just takes a second to breathe before he faces the music. Because he knows, just knows, that the guys are going to want an explanation.

When he does look up, the looks on their faces is almost enough to make him laugh. Gryz is somewhere between horrified and worried, Noel has his head in his hands and Wags seems like he might be three seconds from throwing up. It’s Danton though, staring at the flower with abject terror, that makes his heart pound.

“The hell is that?” Gryz is the first one to speak. Sean looks back down at the floor and wonders if the ground will swallow him whole if he prays hard enough, “Sean?”

“It’s a flower Gryz,” Noel answers for him, and really the man’s a fucking saint, Sean will make sure to buy him a beer at some point.

“Is it Hanahaki?” Wags cuts in.

“No Chris,” Matt snarks, “It’s some other disease that makes you puke up flowers. Of fucking course it’s Hanahaki.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Wags turns to Sean now, and he weakly lifts his head up to meet their gazes, it’s the least they deserve.

“He didn’t have to tell us anything, it’s not any of our business.” Make that two beers.

“Who is it?” Danton question cuts through the hum of the bar, and it makes Sean's blood turn to ice.

“Who cares who it is?” Wags explodes, “This is one of the most dangerous illness you can have in sports!”

“He’s been to the doctor, they said he was fine for now.” Noel says, trying to defuse the situation, instead it just makes Gryz more irate.

“You _knew_ about this?” And really, Sean just wants to go home, curl up on the sofa and never leave his house again. 

“I need to go.” They’re too busy bickering amongst themselves to pay attention to him, so he pushes away from the table and makes his exit. He can barely breathe, and for once it’s not the flowers or the petals causing it. It’s just fear, thick and cloying, that clogs his throat and cloud his vision. Because they knew, they all knew, and Noel might have been convinced to not tell the team doctors, but there was no way the rest of them wouldn’t.

Sean stumbles to his car and presses his forehead to the roof, swearing under his breath. He fumbles with his keys as he drags them out his pocket, but doesn’t get much further than that before he’s interrupted.

“Sean.” It’s Danton, because the world just loves to laugh at him. He doesn’t turn around.

“Look I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, it’s just been...it’s been a lot.”

“Are you alright?” And that was not what Sean was expecting. Anger perhaps, or confusion, but not the unadulterated concern that colored Danton’s voice.

“I’m fine.”

“How far along is it? Flowers means pretty far along right?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s bullshit,” And Danton doesn’t do angry, he’s even keeled enough for the whole team, but he sounds pissed, “Who are they?”

“It doesn’t matter, look I-”

“But it does,” Dany takes a few steps closer, “Don't they love you back? If they don't they're a moron. Are you going to get the surgery?”

That’s the final straw really, to hear Danton talk about the surgery, makes it more real, more like a possibility than Sean would like.

“I’ve got to go,” He chokes out, opened the car door and sliding in behind the wheel. He doesn’t even look at Danton in his mirror as he leaves, but he can feel the ache in his chest as if they were inches from each other.

 

 

 

 **Noelie** [23:05]  
_I just got completely chewed out by Wags and Gryz for not telling them_

 **Noelie** [23:06]  
_They kept on talking about some forsaken brotherhood I’ve broken_

 **Sean** [23:09]   
_Is that like, a new england thing?_

 **Noelie** [23:13]  
_I just had_ Chris Wagner _lecture me on responsibility Sean, this doesn’t happen in real life_

 **Noelie** [23:15]  
_Also I convinced them not to say anything to the team or the front office_

 **Sean** [23:16]  
_You’re a fucking saint noelie_

 **Noelie** [23:17]  
_Pretty sure that’s Bergy but I’ll take it_

 **Noelie** [23:25]  
_Also Wags said you should talk to Danton and stop being a gigantic pussy_

 **Noelie** [23:26]  
_He’s right_

 **Sean** [00:24]  
_I’m going to murder you both_

 **Noelie** [00:30]  
_:)_

 

 

 

They win a game in Washington, and then they win again in Pittsburgh and it feels good, Sean feels good. He nets the game winner against the Caps, and whilst he hadn’t put anything up on the scoreboard against the Penguins it had still been a successful road trip. It’s easier on the ice he finds, to forget about Danton and the flowers and the disease. He can breathe easy in the frigid air, and it’s almost like he doesn’t even have Hanahaki.

And then the Avalanche come to town.

At first everything is fine, they’re a little slow out the gate and the Avs score a couple against them quick, but after that it’s like the whole team has come alive. They’re playing fucking fantastic hockey and they all know it - they’re buzzed, blood pumping as they pot two goals to tie the game.

Jake gets sent to the box halfway through the third, it’s a stupid penalty, embellishment of all things, and they’ll rib him about it later in the locker room. Bruce decides, and Sean doesn’t know why, to send him out with Danton on the PK, and it’s the first time where he feels short of breath on the ice before he’s even off the bench.

They haven’t talked about it since that night. Noel must have said something, because none of the guys bring it up, and the front office don’t ask to see him either. Sometimes he’ll see Gryz and Wags looking worriedly at him, but he pretends not to notice. It’s harder to ignore Danton's gaze on the back of his neck, in the locker room, on the ice, at team meetings and outings. But it’s alright, it’s only _somewhat_ awkward, and it never effects them on the ice. On the ice it’s like Hanahaki doesn’t even exist, even now, playing the PK with Danton, the breathless feeling subsides soon enough.

Sean scores ten seconds after the Avs power play ends, and it’s something like euphoria that propels him up against the glass.

He pivots to greet his team mates, grin on his face, as they slam into him. It’s interesting actually, how you learn to differentiate who’s celebrating with you by the way they knock into you. Gryz is short and gentle, Noel is similar to how he imagines getting hit by a car feels and Danton always slides perfectly under his arm. The bastard.

He does it now, and his breath is warm against Sean’s cheek as he yells in celebration. Charlie squeezes him in close, and Z taps his helmet in congratulation, it’s almost enough that he can ignore the tightness in his lungs.

Sean breaks free of the huddle, and pushes out towards the bench. The sooner he can get a drink the better, anything to quash the tickles that is scratching at the back of his mouth. He doesn’t make it as far as onto the bench before Danton is leaning into him, smile on his face.

“That was a beautiful shot man, you’re a fucking beast.”

And for some reason, that’s it, that’s what makes him crack.

He wrenches himself away, and Sean swears the whole building falls silent as he collapses onto all fours. His lungs feel like they’re trying to force their way up through his esophagus, and blood splatters onto the ice, crimson against the whiteness. The flowers follow soon afterwards and after that he doesn’t feel much of anything, just a hand on his back, and someone yelling his name over and over.

 

 

 

When he wakes up, he’s somewhere that’s not the ice at TD Garden. It’s poorly lit for one, although also very white, and there’s a repetitive bleep every few seconds. It’s sparsely decorated even for a hospital room - and it must be a hospital because that noise sounds like something from those ER dramas - there is a chair dragged right up to the rails of his bed.

There’s no one in it though, and no other signs of a person anywhere that he can see.

He’s relaxed for all of thirty seconds, because if he’s here, in a hospital bed in a hospital, then he must have had the surgery.

His hands fly to his chest as he tries to feel through the gown for the scar. The monitor starts wailing to his left and he can feel his heart jackhammer in his chest. They can’t have-he didn’t give permission for them to- they wouldn’t have?

His vision goes black at the edges as he claws at the gown, he can’t feel anything through it, and he has to know.

Someone bursts through the door of his room, he thinks they’re in scrubs but he’s not focusing on them. Instead, all he can see is the face of the person right behind them; blonde, pale and worried. Danton.

The air leaves his lungs, and he can’t _feel_ any flowers

The nurse yells something he can’t understand, all he can see is Dany. 

Then there's nothing but darkness.

 

 

 

The second time he wakes up, he’s in the same room, and the heart monitor is back to it’s steady rhythm. The only difference is that this time there’s someone occupying the chair by his bed.

Danton has his head pillowed against Sean’s thigh, and his blonde hair almost matches the sheets. He’s fast asleep, or Sean thinks so, and he takes the liberty to just look.  
And then it clicks, there’s no pressure in his lungs, no itch in the back of his throat, no taste of blood at the back of his mouth.

They must have given him the surgery - but looking at Danton he still feels-.

The heart monitor must pick up, because Danton’s eyes shoot open and he flails backwards upright on the chair. He holds eye contact with Sean for all of five seconds before he glances at the heart monitor in panic.

“Hey!” He stands up to lean over him, one hand pressed to his shoulder, “Calm down Sean you’re fine.”

Sean presses a hand over the middle of his chest and tries to put together a coherent sentence whilst also trying to slow down his too fast heart. He needn’t have bothered, Dany takes in his alarmed expression, position of his hand and winces.

“They didn’t,” He hesitates, “They didn’t give you the surgery.”

“Wha?” Sean doesn’t quite understand.

“The surgery,” He shifts Sean’s hand off of his chest and back onto the bed, “You weren’t given it.”

“But why?”

An expression crosses Danton's face that’s a mixture of exasperation and fondness, “You’re a moron, why do you think they didn’t give it to you?”  
It takes an embarrassingly long time for Sean to understand what he was getting at, not something he’ll be mentioning to anybody. And when he does finally get it, he's not sure what to say.

"What?"

"Have you worked it out yet?"

“You’re in love with me?”

Danton rolls his eyes and looks down at the sheets before meeting Sean’s gaze, “You’re an idiot.”

“But...an idiot you’re in love with?”

“Yeah,” The other man says softly, “I thought I was being obvious about it.”

"You weren't," Sean points out, still shell shocked, "But that's cool."

Danton snickers, all Sean can do is stare at him and try to process what he's been told. That Danton likes him back - loves him even - and if he'd just _talked_ to him, maybe they wouldn't be here. God, Noel and Chris were going to be insufferable. He tells this to Dany.

“Noel and Wagner will never shut up about this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, they kept telling me to just talk to you about it, that I was a moron for not doing it. I bet they have money on if I'd do it, the bast-" He stops rambling when Danton leans closer and presses his hand against Sean's neck, "What are you doing?"

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Woah, wait _really_ ? .” Sean says in wonder. All he gets in response is a raised eyebrow, “Not that I disagree, you should totally kiss me, like if you want to.”

“I do.” Danton says, “If you’ll stop freaking out and let me?”

“Fuck, yes, yeah.”

Danton laughs as he leans in to kiss him, and Sean can’t stop the smile from creeping across his own face. The angle is a bit awkward, and surgery or not - his lungs ache when he moves. Later on they'll be shit to deal with, the rest of the team, Bruce and Sweeney and the whole front office, the media. God even his family. But right now?

He’d say everything's pretty fucking perfect.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There we go. I love the idea of hanahaki’s, it’s so sad and beautiful and I really thought these two would be perfect for it. Also I just really wanted to write Noel being the long suffering liney having to deal with Sean’s shit - I need more of it seriously. 
> 
> If you see any mistakes please don't hesitate to point them out, and as always, kudos and comments are adored. Title from the masterpiece that is: Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
